Friedrich gathered up the reins of his horse. “Shall we return to my camp? I will see you home, but I would like to check in with some of my men first.”

“That sounds agreeable,” Cinderella said.

Friedrich caught one of Cinderella’s hands and held it as they walked back to the camp, Friedrich’s horse trailing behind him.

They rounded the corner of the camp and entered the stables.

Two soldiers saw them and violently shook their heads, motioning for Friedrich and Cinderella to backtrack.

“What?” Cinderella said, tilting her head.

“Drat,” Friedrich said.

Out of a stall came an Erlauf officer. He wore a uniform identical to Friedrich’s, but without the eye patch. His hair was a chestnut shade of brown, and he had good-humored, gentle, hazel-colored eyes.

“Friedrich, so you are here. Your men insisted you were out for the day but—,” the man cut off when he set eyes on Cinderella.

The stable was shockingly silent.

The two lower-ranked soldiers looked as though they wished the ground would swallow them alive. Friedrich wore a dark scowl on his face, and the unknown officer gaped at Cinderella as if she was a three-headed goat.

Cinderella cleared her throat and decided no one seemed prone to introducing her to this stranger, so she may as well do it herself. “Good afternoon, sir. I am Lady Cinderella Lacreux, and you are?”

“Colonel Merrich of the Second Regiment in the Dragon Army,” Merrich said, his voice just as dazed as his expression.

“It is a pleasure to meet you, Colonel Merrich,” Cinderella said, performing a sweeping curtsey.

“There’s no need to be nice to him,” Friedrich said.

“What? Friedrich, you wound me! Has he said nothing of me?” Merrich asked.

Cinderella shook her head. “I don’t believe Colonel Friedrich has ever mentioned a Colonel Merrich.”

“Well, this is a fine mess,” Merrich said. “You lied about her beauty, and then you don’t even tell her about me?”

“I said she was exotic. You were the one who decided she must resemble a troll,” Friedrich said, curling an arm around Cinderella’s shoulders.

“I beg your pardon?” Cinderella said, her voice dangerously pleasant as she stepped out of the gesture.

“It was a joke,” Friedrich said. “I did not tell him how breathtaking you are.”

Cinderella looked down at her rumpled dress and ran a hand through her windswept hair. “Oh yes. Breathtaking,” she said, her voice devoid of emotion.

“But you are,” Colonel Merrich said with a charming smile. “I have never before seen hair so red and stunning before in my life,” he said, taking Cinderella’s hand.

He almost brushed it with his lips before Cinderella pulled her hand from his grasp. “I am charmed,” Cinderella said in the same tone one uses to announce the sight of a dead rat. “If you will excuse me, gentlemen. I believe I will go wait in the mess hall until you are ready to leave, Fred,” Cinderella said before making her exit from the stable.

As she left, she heard Colonel Merrich say to Friedrich, “She is a tough one to crack, isn’t she? I understand why you whine and complain so.”

“Thank you for your sympathy.”

“Yes, I figure I ought to share some with you before I kill you for setting me up as the fool. That lady could stop the sun if she smiled. You said she scuttled.”

“I have no idea what you are referring to,” Friedrich said.

Are all Erlauf Colonels so roguish? Cinderella wondered, shaking her head as she made her way to the mess hall.

Chapter 11

Cinderella sifted through her Father’s office, looking for items she could sell. The office was mostly cleared out from previous passes, but it was best to be thorough and exhaust all possible sources of income.

The curtains and rugs were gone, as were most of the books. The paintings—the first things to go—were long gone, and Cinderella would have sold the desk if she thought the monstrosity could be removed from the Chateau, but it was built inside the study and could not be shifted through the door.

“Mademoiselle?”

“Yes, Jeanne?” Cinderella asked, standing on tiptoe to inspect the books. (The remaining volumes were books of Aveyron’s records and a farmer’s almanac.) “A Royal Messenger arrived,” Jeanne said. “He said to give this to the lady of the house.”

Cinderella took the envelope Jeanne held out to her. She glanced at the royal seal pressed into wax on the back of the envelope before she ripped it open.

“It’s an invitation for the annual victory celebration,” Cinderella said, reading the paper.

“The Victory Ball?” Jeanne asked, naming the event Erlauf royalty hosted in the Trieux Palace every year since the takeover to laud their victory.

“Yes,” Cinderella said, stuffing the invitation back into the envelope. “Please give it to Lady Klara. I will not be attending.”

“As you wish, Mademoiselle,” Jeanne said, curtseying.